Short Skirt Long Jacket
by Summoner Luna
Summary: Challenge fic: Origin Story of their battle clothes. -SquallxRinoa. Almost-fluff.-


_Challenge prompt from Emerald-Latias from months ago: 'Write something about how Squall and Rinoa got their in-game clothes.' Seeing as I have actually had a headcanon for this for a long time (side effect of cosplaying Rinoa, I think-I tend to invent headcanons for how the characters I cosplay get their clothes sometimes while I am working on them), the prompt was perfect! I am finally posting it! A little more on the fluffy side than I normally write for this pairing, but they deserve cuteness from time to time._

_I also changed the title, for anyone who read this in the first few weeks it was posted. I had the Cake song title in my head from the moment I started working on it, since it describes Rinoa's outfit, but the more I looked at it on here, the more I felt like it didn't work as a story title. And since Snow Patrol is the perfect band for this relationship anyway, using their song titles is almost too easy. :)  
_

* * *

"Absolutely not."

"Squall, it's falling apart."

Rinoa laughed, struck by the unreasonably serious look on Squall's face, even if her reaction only seem to darken his expression.

"I'm glad you think this is funny."

"Squall, the fur on this thing looks a stray cat. The pockets have holes in them, and the zipper is broken. Not to mention, it's too small. This thing isn't even worth donating anymore. I'm throwing it away."

"It's always been too small."

Rinoa broke into another peal of laughter, and Squall pulled the jacket out of her hands, looking, at least in her opinion, like he wanted to hug it. "I've just had it for awhile. I can still wear it."

"You haven't worn this thing in years. I love this jacket, baby, but you have to let it go."

Squall grunted, and tossed the jacket on the bed-decidedly _not_ in the direction of the trash pile they were accumulating. He reached for another shirt to fold, but Rinoa took a seat on the bed, laying back so she was staring nose-to-fur with Squall's coat.

"Where did you get that thing, anyway?"

He shrugged, placed the folded shirt into the box in front of them, and grabbed another from the pile.

"No, really. It was kind of beat up when I met you. Did someone give it to you?"

"No." Another shirt.

"So, what? You didn't, like, kill a snow lion and turn it into a coat, did you?" Rinoa paused. "That would be both hot and a little disturbing."

Squall raised an eyebrow, his eyes betraying an amusement that didn't quite reach his mouth. "You guessed it."

"Whatever." Rinoa looked up at him and smirked. "Really, how did you get it?"

"It's not an interesting story, Rin. I bought it." He pulled another shirt, deliberately avoiding her gaze. "Sorry if that's disappointing."

She sighed, pulling the jacket against her and brushing her chin against what remained of the fur. "Not disappointing. It fits you."

"Being boring?"

"No." She stretched out her arm and grabbed his hand before he could pick up another shirt, tugging him towards her. "It's you."

"Boring."

"Hush."

"Where are your things? From then?" Squall relented, and sat next to her on the bed. He pulled the jacket a few inches from her face and pressed a finger against her lips, which she dutifully kissed, and tugged at him again until he lay back beside her.

"They're here."

"You kept them?"

Rinoa sighed, and pulled her knees closer to her chest, keeping Squall's hand clutched firmly into her own. "Does that make me a big hypocrite?"

"A little." She wrinkled her nose, and Squall's eyes crinkled into a smile.

"I made the skirt, you know."

"I didn't know you could sew."

Rinoa smiled. "You've seen that skirt, Squall. I don't know if that counts as sewing."

He raised an eyebrow. "I think you got the length right."

She swatted his nose with one of her fingers. "Fine. I'll wear it out in public, with nothing underneath."

"I wouldn't have a problem with that."

"You would when all of your subordinates start ogling me."

"Fair enough. So you made it?"

Rinoa nodded. "Deling's taxes shut down most of Timber's stores, and I refused to buy anything from the places they ran. So, I decided I should start making my own clothes. I figured a skirt would be easy. As you clearly noticed, I made it too short, and the rest of the Owls made fun of me for it so much it just wasn't worth it to try again."

"That doesn't sound like you."

"What?"

"Not rising to a challenge. Especially back then."

"It really just... Wasn't worth it. Not over something like that. Even if I had kept trying I still would have ended up having to buy supplies somewhere, and then where would I have been? Anyway, we had secondhand stores. That's why I had those awful shorts."

"Oh?"

"Well I wasn't going to walk around in just the skirt. And before you say anything, remember I was the only girl in the Owls for a long time."

Squall smiled, and pulled her hand up to kiss it. "I didn't mean that. Why do you think they were awful?"

"Oh please, Squall. Those horrid zippers? I guess they must have belonged to someone in Deling at some point. There was that horrible fad for awhile to put zippers and buckles on everything. We never really got that in Timber, we couldn't afford..." She stopped, and pulled a hand to her mouth, mollified. "Oh Hyne, you guys! Those things on your pants. I never even made the connection. Squall, that fad was terrible. We used to make fun of it so much back in Timber, I can't believe it was popular in place like Garden!"

Squall shrugged. "We didn't get out much."

"Right? That's why it's so funny. You actually liked that?"

"We got leave, even as students. Balamb has clothing stories."

"Yeah, bad ones."

"What about your duster?"

"Don't change the subject. I'm not done making fun of you for your silly leg buckles."

"My silly leg buckles helped me save the world. And I liked them."

"You're so lucky you wear a uniform most of the time."

"Your duster. Did you make that?"

"No," Rinoa said quickly. She moved Squall's jacket to lay behind her on the bed, and scooted closer to him, so she could rest her head against the crook of his shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

"If you don't want to talk about it-"

"It was my mom's."

"Rinoa-"

"It's okay, Squall. I don't mind." She tilted her head to look at him, and kissed his chin. "It originally had long sleeves. I guess she wore it backstage. No one ever really told me, but I found it with her stuff. I used to play dress-up with it, and I snagged it on a loose nail once and tore one of the sleeves. I cried all day, and stayed in my room for a week. I don't even remember how old I was. But on my birthday one year my dad gave it to me again the way you saw it. I honestly didn't wear it that much anymore once I went to Timber because it made me think of Caraway more than it made me think of my mom by that point, but... I guess that day I wanted all the help I could get. And it must have worked, since you showed up."

Rinoa bit the inside of her lip and cast her eyes down again. Squall didn't say anything, then after a beat moved an arm around her waist to pull her closer. She felt him kiss the top of her head, and move his hand to her face, forcing her to look up at him.

"Is that why you kept it?"

She blinked.

"I hate that jacket, if you want the truth. I think the fur is tacky, and it's too short to be practical. But it's surprisingly warm, and it was rare for me to wear civvies, so I never saw the point in getting another one."

"So why did you keep it?"

"I was wearing it when I met you."

"Actually-"

"I mean when I really met you. I meet a lot of people in uniform."

"That's-"

"Stupid?"

"Sweet."

"Mmm." He kissed the top of her head again, and for a few moments, they lay in silence.

"Maybe I wanted to keep it because I didn't want to lose you."

"Squall-"

"I know. I know."

"I was wearing it when it happened. Maybe that's why I kept everything. To remind me. I mean, not that I need it. Just..."

"Throw them out together?"

"The wings were already painted on, you know. My mom always told me I was her little angel. Maybe that's why I liked that duster more than anything else of hers. I wonder if she would still call me that now."

"Rin-"

"Do you think she would?"

"Come on."

"Squall-"

"Rinoa, stop it. I love you. Your mother loved you. Nothing will ever change that. Sit up."

Rinoa lay for a few seconds longer, remembering. Reluctantly she sat up, and took Squall's hands so he could pull her to standing.

"Together?"

Rinoa nodded. "Mine are in the linen closet. Behind the extra sheets we never use." Squall gave her a bemused look. "Well, we never use them. I figured no one would ever go there. I'll get them."

She did, along with a new trash bag.

"The jacket is all I have left. Those jeans barely made it home with me, and I lost the belts training one day."

"I remember that! I hope I didn't seem too unconcerned."

Squall responded with a Look, and gestured towards the bag. "Well?"

Rinoa bit her lip again. What they were doing felt monumental, and also so simple she had to laugh at their ceremony.

"What?"

"Squall, they're clothes."

"Yes."

"Here." She shoved the blue knit into the bag and tossed it at him. In seconds, Squall had dropped in the jacket, tied off the bag, and dropped it into the corner with the rest of the trash.

They stood staring at each other, the room mostly empty save for blank furniture, black trash bags, and a growing tower of boxes, and they laughed.


End file.
